bag of gold
somewhere in his possession, and felt satisfied that he had imbibed as
much as he could conveniently carry at their expense.

Slipping out of the room quietly and unostentatiously, he went round to
the paddock where his horse was, saddled it, and rode away. The sounds
of uproarious mirth came to him from the direction of the Rest, and he
smiled furtively.

"It's right into our hands," he said to himself, as he rode along in the
direction of the Three-mile.

He followed the track, dimly defined in the evening gloom, with the
certainty of one who traverses a well-known route. The red flicker of
firelight showed through the simple window as he approached the hut, and
he went up to the door, after turning his horse loose in the paddock,
and pushed it open. Inside, the firelight showed two men sitting on
rough-made stools in front of the fireplace, while a third lay on a
stretcher at the far end of the room.

One of the two men turned round quickly.

"Hullo, Barber, I didn't know you were back," Tap said in a subdued
voice. "But I'm so glad, because----"

"Shut the door," the man interrupted abruptly.

"All right," Tap answered, as he turned and did the man's bidding.
"Walker hasn't turned up, but there's a lot of them come in, and they've
all got gold," he went on, as he came over to the fire.

The man lying on the stretcher half raised himself, and the firelight
fell on his face.

"Oh, you're there," Tap said, as he saw and recognized Gleeson. "I was
going to say----"

Barber turned round again and fixed his eyes on Tap's face.

"What about Gleeson's men?" he asked.

"I didn't hear if they were there or not, but Gleeson can go in himself
to-morrow. They won't know him now, after the night they're having."

"If Walker's not there he's waiting for them somewhere," Gleeson said.

"Then it's good enough for you to get in and start the game before they
come," Barber said; adding, "And maybe you'll have sense enough to hold
your tongue after the last experience you had. And you too, Tap, d'ye
hear? I'm boss of this show, and don't you forget it."

The two men addressed did not answer; and Slaughter, sitting in front of
the fire and looking into the red mass with eyes that were dazed and
lustreless, wondered what all the comings and goings and muttered
conversation, which had so inexplicably supplanted the still solitude of
the Three-mile, had to do with him and his selection.

CHAPTER XI.